The Legend of Zelda: Strings of Fate
by Pythonz42
Summary: He has never known his parents. His grandmother died protecting him. His aunt and uncle were taken from him. Nightmares plague his sleep as he drifts aimlessly through life, only having one true friend to his name. Preferring solitude over company, Link would rather live his life alone and undisturbed. All that changes when one night he meets an unexpected visitor...


**The Legend of Zelda: The Strings of Fate**

**Chapter 1**

The first thing anyone would notice was how absolutely dark it was. The blackness stretched on for as long as the eye could see. For a moment, the boy trapped in this dark thought that maybe he couldn't see anything and that's why it was all black. The blonde boy raised his hands, turning them over repeatedly. He could definitely see his hands. So he could see, but not anything around him. He couldn't see the ground he was standing on nor anything near him. He tried walking, but he never got anywhere though he could feel solid ground underneath his feet. He tried calling out, "Hello?"

Only silence answered him. The boy sighed, then hummed. He wanted to hear something – anything. Even if it was just himself. Then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't feel so lonely anymore. The boy felt like he was here for a long while, but unable to measure any exacts. The boy started walking again, humming. He hummed the only song that came to mind, a song that was sang to him when he was a baby. It had lyrics, but he long forgot them. He knew only the melody. After looking around, he decided that nothing was going to happen if he just stood there. He picked a direction and walked, continuing to hum.

As he walked, he felt something and stopped. It was a pleasant, warm feeling, right on his left foot. He looked down and saw it enveloped in red. He wondered how he was just now seeing this red substance. He lifted his foot and watched droplets run down and join the rest of the red. It was a small stream that ended where he just stepped, having found it by happenstance in this endless black world of nothing. His eyes followed where the stream was leading, his sight landing upon the leaking, still body of an older woman.

It was grotesque. She was wearing what once could have been called a beautiful blue dress. Said dress was littered with tears, cuts and holes. And from each break in that dress' cloth came the red that ended at his left foot. The boy didn't feel anything, merely gazing at the body as one might gaze at a dead worm on the road. Briefly, the boy thought about continuing on his way, but his eyes locked on the face of the woman.

They were half-lidded, her eyes. The irises having lost the color of life. She was past middle-age, though her skin was beginning to wrinkle, it couldn't be called anything less than beautiful. Her long, graying once-blonde hair was splayed on the black void around her head, covering the lower half of her face. He began to approach her.

He bent down on his knees, reaching out and cupping the woman's head. Gently, his fingers moved her hair out of her face and he knew immediately why he had approached her. This lifeless corpse, the only company the boy had known in this black void, was the shell of his grandmother. Her eyes, which had once been a shimmering blue, full of life even in her old age, were now a dulling gray. The memories came flooding back, memories of a crimsoned sky evening, joined by crimson fires stretching skyward. Through eyes blurry with tears, he saw the scene unfold.

His grandmother stood in front of him, her arms outstretched to either side, a large black shadow in front of her. The shadow's glowing red eyes centered on her and a wide, drooling mouth of white fangs grinned. It raised a clawed hand and brought it down on his grandmother, her clothing tearing with her flesh. Through sobs, he called out to her. Yelled for her to get away, but he knew his words meant nothing as it was far too late. She fell to the ground limp, possibly already dead or dying. But the shadow didn't stop there. It followed his grandmother on the way down, holding a black sword and impaling and slicing his grandmother repeatedly until she resembled what the boy was holding in the black, empty void.

By holding her body filled with the cuts, holes and tears, he himself was beginning to be drenched in her crimson. The tears fell from his face openly as he wept pitifully, his tears falling like rain on her still face.

* * *

Link's eyes opened slowly, his face buried in his pillow. His face felt damp as he rose, blinking away the tears and rubbing his eyes with his pajama sleeves. He sniffed and pulled himself together, sliding his blanket off him and sitting up in his bed. His hands were folded on his lap, his eyes staring at his intertwined thumbs, his feet dangling off his bed. This wasn't the first time he had this dream, the dream of wandering empty blackness and stumbling on his body of his long-dead grandmother. It wasn't the first time he had woke up to tears. Every night for the past week he had been having this dream and Link began dreading the thought of sleep.

It had been five years since that day. The day in question being the day his home was raided by bandits and his grandmother murdered. At first, he didn't dream. He didn't sleep, really. He would just lie in the foreign bed under the foreign roof of his aunt and uncle until the sun came up. Maybe during that time of laying in wait did he fall into long naps periodically. The dreams came when his body could adjust to falling asleep again. They had stopped for a while and his reactions were much worse. He would wake up screaming, bawling and shouting for help. His aunt and uncle would have to shake him to reality and affirm the nightmare was over. Link lived with them for a year, nursed by his strong uncle and caring aunt back to a healthy life, but they soon perished, too. They were merchants and had escorted a caravan personally after raiders were beginning to become more tenacious. They had been taken from Link, too. Since then, with no other living relatives, the blonde-haired boy of fourteen had lived alone and the nightmares came and gone. Sometimes of his uncle and aunt, sometimes of his grandmother. Then, they just stopped. But now, they were starting again.

He rose from his bed finally, approaching the mirror across from his bed. He rested his hands on the desk, leaning on it and looking himself right in the face. The mirror was rather large, Link able to see his whole torso and the bed behind him. He looked himself in the face, staring at himself right in his blue eyes, his blonde hair reaching in front of them from having just woke up. His skin was slightly pale, bags under his eyes. They were reddened slightly. Anyone could look him in the face and see he has not had a good night's sleep for a long while. In that tired, pale face with slightly dull eyes he saw his younger, pitiful self. He shut his eyes and slapped his cheeks, shaking his head. He turned from the mirror, ready to wash up for the day.

Link was now eighteen years old. Years after his aunt and uncle's demise he lived alone in their house which they owned. It wasn't a large house, three bedrooms, kitchen, living room and a basement. He always figured he was a burden on his two relatives. That third room was obviously meant for a child of theirs, not for an outsider. Their own flesh and blood. Eventually, that feeling of not belonging subsided as he began to view his aunt and uncle as the parents he never had. To this very day, he always felt like he robbed them of the child they wanted to have but couldn't afford.

At the age of fourteen, after they died, Link had to pick up a job to survive. He worked with another merchant family, friends of his aunt and uncle as a store hand. Today was a day off and Link was going to do what he normally did on his day off. He secluded himself in his room, sitting on his bed near the window, letting the light roll in on a flip pad. He opened the cover, staring at the pages. He flipped through skillful drawings of various things he called "nothings". The pictures didn't really mean anything to him. If he had to be frank, he rather disliked drawing. He thought the images he drew were nothing worthy of anyone's note, evidenced by his room strewn with drawings that accumulated over the years. Most of them were unfinished as he never had much motivation to finish what he drew. But his aunt was the first and only person to see these drawings and praise him for them.

She requested something anyone would request after learning someone can draw: for the artist to draw them. It was the first picture he felt compelled to put any sort of soul he had into it. After flipping through the pages, he found it. His sketch of her. It was the one drawing he was proud of, for his aunt loved it. He traced the faded sketch lines with his finger, reminiscing for a moment. Then, a disturbance pierced the solitude and silence that filled the house. A knock at the door. Link sighed, standing and closed the pad. Steadily and at his own pace, he walked to the front door and opened it, wincing from the light filling his eyes. He raised a hand to block the sun, before focusing on the person standing before him.

"Yo, Link!" A cheery someone said.

"And so, a day of peace and quiet comes to an end," Link said.

"Don't act like you're not happy to see ol' Berny. Someone's got to put a smile on your face now and again."

Bernard Kaiser. A seventeen year old boy of dark eyes, hair and an athletic build. Bursting with energy and able to bring out the best of Link. Whereas Link seemed to have kept everyone else at bay with a cold, disinterested demeanor, Bernard took the extra step to befriend Link. Link decided to give in eventually and take Bernard's hand of friendship, as Benard happened to be the son of the family who employed Link. To show his mock dissatisfaction of Bernard standing before him, Link frowned. Not having any of that, Bernard reached out and gripped Link's cheeks, his thumbs forcing his lips into a smile. "There. It wouldn't kill you to put a smile on once in a while. Maybe then you'd yourself a girlfriend and lighten up a little."

"Tut, tut. It looks like rain. Better stay inside today," Link said in spite of the warm, sunny weather as he turned, wrenching himself from Bernard's hands and heading back inside.

Not having that, either, Link felt a hand grip the back of his shirt and force him outside, landing flat on his ass as he watched Bernard close the door with a definitive slam. Truly, a day of peace and quiet was ruined. But Link sighed in spite of himself. Bernard was the only one Link could truly call friend. Perhaps more than that. Link saw him as the younger brother he never had. Bernard kept nothing from him and Link did the same, though unwillingly. Bernard even knew about his dreams, though Link didn't tell him he was having them recently. The lonely look Bernard had when they were younger hurt him more than Link realized. Although Bernard was an outgoing person and wasn't short on friends, he specifically chose to get close to Link, and when Link tried a little too hard to shove him away, he instantly realized the mistake and opened up quickly after that. Resigning, Link stood up as he caught weird looks from neighbors, being forced from his home.

"You're not going to shut yourself in today. Today's special. Remember?" Bernard folded his arms, staring Link right in the face.

Link looked off into the distance and thought. No, it wasn't his birthday. Wasn't Link's, either. Oh. "You mean that town fair, or something?"

"It's not just a 'town fair'. It's the Knight examination deadline. Sure, there's the festival to celebrate the honor of Hyrule's Knights, but it's also the only time you can try to fight one of them in a one on one duel. If you win, you get to become an honorary Knight! Otherwise, you spend months training at an academy. It's a good chance for you."

"Oh, really?" Said Link, trying to show his disinterest.

"You try to hide it, but you can't hide things from old Berny, Link. I know you're deft with a sword. I know Mr. Quentus taught you a thing or two four years ago. He always told my dad how proud of you he was." Benard smiled genuinely.

"I think you could make it big as a Knight! Get out of this small-time town and make something of yourself than just a shop hand."

It wasn't falsehood. Link was adept with a sword, having trained with his uncle for a straight year. Not only that, but his uncle had said that he seemed natural with it. "But what if I'm happy as a simple shop hand? Besides," Link stepped closer to Bernard, wrapping an arm around his neck.

"Who would you annoy if I lived the good life of a Knight? You need someone around."

Bernard wrestled out of Link's grip. "Yeah, thanks for your concern, but I feel as if you're always watching out for me. It's time for me to return the favor. I want you to be happy, Link, and don't try to say you're happy here. I see that look in your eyes, sometimes."

Bernard looked away for a second, scratching his cheek. "You're not happy, Link. I don't think you have been for a while."

Those words made Link pause. Unable to respond immediately, Link looked at Bernard and frowned. Link thought back to when they first met.

* * *

It was just after Link had lost his aunt and uncle. A couple days had passed and he had finally gone outside. It was a gray, dark sky full of thunder and throwing rain like arrows, but Link didn't mind. He just had to get away from that house. He couldn't take it anymore. Everything was a painful memento. He just wanted to clear his head. Not once, but twice now, he lost everything dear to him again. It was an unbearable feeling. He had decided to let whatever tears he had to give drift with the rain. Aimlessly he would walk, letting his sadness mix with the rain as he became nothing short of drenched and cold, his boots sloshing, filled with water.

He stumbled into an alley, having unconsciously followed sounds unfamiliar. Down the alley between two large brick buildings were three boys, two older by about a year or two and one younger by a year. The younger one was on the ground, in the fetal position cradling his head as he was kicked repeatedly by the two older boys. Later, Link would find out that they were beating him because he wouldn't steal from his parents' shop for them. He could hear the stifled sobs of the younger boy being beat, pitying him. One of the older boys looked up and saw the blonde boy in the rain looking onward. "What the hell are you looking at?"

Link looked on at the younger boy, who looked up as his beating had been halted. He wasn't sure what was the trigger of it, but Link felt infuriated. Maybe it was the desperation in the boy's eye, pleading for assistance, or maybe Link felt this scene was something that could have happened to his uncle or aunt before they died. Whatever the cause was, he picked up a nearby branch and ran, letting out his tears and anger all at once.

* * *

Thinking back on that day, Link realized it wasn't a heroic moment by any means of the word. After all, he probably won that fight with minor scratches and bruises because anyone would be at a loss what to do when someone charges at you, sobbing already and yelling bloody murder with a branch and knowing how to use it.

Link shook his head at that memory. "Fine, there's no hurt in trying," Link gave in. No hurt in trying at all.

"Really? You mean that?" Bernard said, grinning wide, "The festival's already started, but the duels haven't started yet. You'll be in it right away, too! Not too many people try to take on a Knight, anyway."

Bernard started leading the way, Link walking beside him. "Yeah, yeah. Don't expect too much though, I'm rusty."

"I know, which is why we're going to practice first."

"You can't expect someone who hasn't picked up a sword in four years to take on a knight."

"I believe in you, Link. After all, Mr. Quentus was a knight before he settled down with Mrs. Ashley. You learned from a Knight, yourself! There's no way you can lose!"

Damn. He really thought of everything, Link sighed. Link wasn't suit for the knight life. It just wasn't him nor did it interest him. But no matter what, Link was going to lose that duel. Bernard can't fault him if he loses fair and square. A thought crossed his mind. Because of his nightmares, he has snuck out in the dread of night, into his backyard with his uncle's old sword and practiced a bit. Holding that blade in his hands made him feel a bit more courageous, as if his uncle's strength was right there with him. Did Bernard catch onto that? Link didn't think so. He frowned. But then again, If anything, maybe Link could hold it over his head and have Bernard do things for him once he lost. With that in mind, Link played along and went to train with Bernard before his shining moment.


End file.
